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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28167375">in dreams</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/tossedwaves/pseuds/tossedwaves'>tossedwaves</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Wheel of Time - Robert Jordan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 19:08:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,266</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28167375</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/tossedwaves/pseuds/tossedwaves</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Moridin is drawn into Rand’s dreamshard after Semirhage’s attack. It is not at all what he expected.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Rand al'Thor &amp; Ishamael | Moridin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Yuletide 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>in dreams</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/halcyonine/gifts">halcyonine</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Moridin opened his eyes and breathed. He knew that his physical body was lying asleep in bed, but he had never felt more awake. </p><p>A dreamshard?</p><p>But it wasn’t his. It had been a long time since he had been dragged into a place in Tel’aran’rhiod that he did not have complete control of. Lanfear—Cyndane, now—has always pretended to have complete control of the Land of Dreams, but Moridin knew that she had never been a real threat. And now that he held Cyndane’s cour’souvra, she would no longer be a real threat to him. </p><p>Mesaana was a threat, but one he knew how to avoid. She knew not to threaten him now, anyway. </p><p>The rest of the Chosen were not worth mentioning. </p><p>So whose dreamshard could this be? al’Thor’s?</p><p>He had never cared for the world of dreams, no, Lews Therin had always been one for reality. *Elan, what does the dreamworld offer that reality cannot?* </p><p>He had never understood what would drive people to escape into a world of their own making. What had Lews Therin ever needed to escape from? What would he understand of the subtle threads of suggestion that existed in dreams? Lews Therin had always been cunning, but not in that way. He had never lacked power in the waking world. </p><p>Elan had never known how to explain the appeal of dreams. And when Lews Therin had finally understood, he had hardly been in the state of mind to appreciate it. </p><p>The shadow of the mountain he had created still haunted all of their steps. </p><p>Perhaps, in this new world, al’Thor was different. Who knew how much he remembered of Lews Therin’s last tortured moments?</p><p>Moridin had never had the pleasure of forgetting. Shai’tan had dragged him kicking and screaming out from where the Pattern had finally deposited him. It made sense. The relentless grind of the Pattern would never cease spitting him out, not until the Dark One finally managed to break it. Moridin saw no reason to struggle against the threads of fate this time. </p><p>If he wished that the power that would ultimately bring him oblivion had not anchored him back to reality, well, Moridin knew better than to mention it. Shai’tan was neither understanding nor forgiving. </p><p>Footsteps heralded the arrival of another person. Before Moridin could so much as blink, al’Thor rounded the corner. </p><p>He looked...bad. Dark circles shadowed the hollows under al’Thor’s eyes, and his skin stretched tight across his cheekbones. </p><p>It looked like he hadn’t slept in months. Why, if he could use a dreamshard?</p><p>And what was that strange darkness, that twisting of light, around him?</p><p>Moridin had seen Lews Therin and al’Thor in a series of encounters that ranged from bad to worse. Nothing had ever outwardly shown that al’Thor was this close to the end of his rope. </p><p>But the aura he gave off, the warp of air around him?</p><p>It had the same resonance that the True Source gave off. Moridin had studied it for too long to fail to recognize its effects. </p><p>He had never expected to see them around al’Thor. </p><p>He had always been too...dedicated for that. </p><p>There was a level of despair, of hopelessness that the world could never get better, that was needed to draw on the True Source. Lews Therin and al’Thor had never had that, and Moridin had never been able to show either of them. </p><p>It seemed that al’Thor had finally found it. </p><p>Perhaps he would finally be willing to listen to Moridin? It would be nice to finally have someone who understood. </p><p>al’Thor didn’t look like he had come for a pleasant chat, though. </p><p>It didn’t look like he had come for anything at all. So why had Moridin ended up in his dreamshard?</p><p>It wasn’t just the aura, though. </p><p>Lews Therin and then Rand al’Thor had always had a threatening appearance. But today, al’Thor was practically radiating danger. </p><p>When he spoke, it was with a strange gravitas. His facial expressions did not reflect the words he was speaking. “Moridin. It figures that I’d see you here, tonight. Light, will I never be free of people in my head? I had thought that my dreams were mine at least—I should have known better. I am the Dragon Reborn. Everything has been taken from me now. I just need to make it to Tarmon Gai’don.” He turned his head to the side and muttered. “Not much longer, now. Light, let it not be much longer.”</p><p>Moridin did not think al’Thor was talking to him any longer. </p><p>“Have you finally accepted the futility of existence?”</p><p>al’Thor tilted his head. “Futility? On the contrary. I do what I must. Diversions, happiness—those are what is futile. I should have known better than to think I could have any of that. But I have a purpose. I’ll make it to the Last Battle because I must. And then we will die.” His eyes stared off blankly into the distance—he was not looking at Moridin any longer. </p><p>A shiver worked its way down Moridin’s spine. </p><p>He had always expected the worst. Moridin had always wanted someone else to understand. al’Thor was close—Moridin couldn’t believe how close. </p><p>But there was something <i>off</i>. Hadn’t al’Thor had Semirhage locked up? It seemed that her unique brand of causing pain had gotten to al’Thor at last. </p><p>He wouldn’t have killed her without reason. Perhaps he had finally given up the strange compulsion against killing women. Moridin had no idea what sort of trauma had caused that. For all that they spoke of forgiveness and the Light, Lews Therin and now Rand al’Thor had never shied away from murder. </p><p>Moridin had wanted Lews Therin—Rand—to understand why an end was necessary. But not like this. al’Thor still cling to his duty, for all that it was destroying him.</p>
<hr/><p>The meeting left Moridin with a strange taste in his mouth. </p><p>It seemed that al’Thor still was not quite willing to consider ending existence for everyone. </p><p>It was unfortunate. Moridin had always harbored hope that al’Thor would understand someday. After all, who else knew the depths that reality could drive a soul to? Both of them had expectations laid upon them that would break their bodies and souls to fulfill. </p><p>Moridin had learned ages ago that duty would never abate. The instant you accepted some burdens, the weight would keep on growing and growing, burying you beneath a pile of cares and worries that you could not so much as take off for an instant. </p><p>Duty had buried Moridin, long ago. He knew now that the only wise thing was to let go. </p><p>Who could care, could push onwards, in a world like this? Where the cares did not even stop with death, but were inextricably wound into the warp and weft of the wheel of time? How many millions of times had each soul borne the same weight?</p><p>It seemed that al’Thor finally understood. </p><p>Lews Therin’s cares, on top of Rand al’Thor’s. How could he stand the weight? What sort of world was it, where people had to bear the burden of past mistakes for all eternity? They would go on, and on, and on. There were no endings to the wheel of time. </p><p>Boys like al’Thor should never have to bear the burden of centuries’ old mistakes. </p><p>al’Thor was a boy no longer. Had he ever been?</p><p>He certainly wasn’t one now. </p><p>No, al’Thor had not yet accepted that existence must end. But he was close. Now, it was only a matter of time.</p>
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